


Debbie Downer and Shoes McGee

by MrNowhere



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, I don't know why I wrote this, M/M, Sexual Humor, Support Group, first person POV, the summary is nothing like the actual story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrNowhere/pseuds/MrNowhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Stan meets Kyle at a support group for troubled teens, he gets nailed in the face with a boot. The second time Stan sees Kyle, he gets smacked in the back of the head with the same boot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debbie Downer and Shoes McGee

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I really like the idea of them getting together even when the don't know each other well, because they're "meant to be," no matter what the situation.
> 
> The entire thing is from Stan's point of view.

 

 

"Hi, my name's blah blah blah, and I'm going to bitch and complain about my insecurities for thirty minutes straight."

I snicker quietly, because I'm pretty sure Cartman's impression of a support group is pretty accurate.

"Do you actually have to go to a bunch of shitty meetings to talk about your feelings every week?" He groans, flopping around like a fish out of water on my unmade bed.

"Ok, first of all, stop that, you're going to break my box spring," I frown. "And yeah, my mom's forcing me to go to all these dumbass meetings because apparently my cynicism has been getting out of control."

"Can't you just ditch? You could drive your own car there, she'd never know."

"Honestly, that's not a bad idea, but my mom has insisted on driving me there," I sigh.

"Well, sucks to be you, man," he grunts, leaping off of my mattress and walking towards the door. "Have fun at your little pussy meeting!"

I roll my eyes as he walks out of my room and down the stairs. 

Sometimes I think that he's the one who needs some support.

 

_ _ _

 

"He-hello everybody, my name is Leopold, but you can call me Butters, and I'm here because..."

I stop paying attention to the petite blonde-haired boy (is it even a boy?) after that first sentence, mostly due to the fact that I'm tired of listening to all these peoples problems, and because I find myself wondering what kind of parents call their kid Butters.

I look around the circle, scanning for any recognizable faces.

Directly across from me is a scraggly dirty blonde-haired teen who apparently thinks he's immortal, and according to his parents, is completely delusional. I think he said his name was Kenny- or was it Denny? I wasn't really paying attention to him either.

To my left is a brown-haired boy who apparently has serious emotional problems (which I do not know, nor care about). Beside him is a black-haired stone-faced boy who hasn't spoken throughout the entire meeting, and beside him is a twitchy blonde who hasn't made any noise aside from the occasional gah or urk.

"Oh, fuck, I forgot one of my shoes at home."

I glance over to my right and see what appears to be a boy wearing a bright green hat in an attempt to tame his tangly mass of red curls, who is in fact only wearing one shoe.

He notices me staring and proceeds to kick his only shoe off, sending it flying right into my face.

 

_ _ _

 

After that little shoescapade, the guy who nailed me in the face and I got kicked out and ended up in the deserted parking lot in front of the community centre.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles, handing me a tissue as a river of blood gushes from my nose. "I don't like being stared at."

"I noticed" I reply simply.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Not at all, you just threw a fucking boot at me, I really appreciate it, thanks for making my day better, you're the best."

This is what my mom had warned me about, apparently being a cynical asshole scares people away, and for once in my life, I really hope that's true. I don't want Shoes McGee over here to come back next week and begin throwing his entire wardrobe at me.

To my surprise, he bursts out laughing.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion, wondering why the hell he's reacting like this. Maybe he gets off on negativity...

"This is the first time I haven't gotten into a fist fight within the first ten minutes of talking to someone," he says dreamily.

"Awesome, I'm so glad I got to be your first."

"I didn't expect to lose my anger virginity this early," he says. "I'm Kyle, nice to meet you I guess."

"Introducing yourself after doing the deed?" I reply, smirking slightly. "I'm Stan."

"Stan? I don't think I'll remember that, can I call you Bob instead?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"I was joking."

"I wasn't."

He snickers quietly and pats me on the back, "you're an interesting guy, Stan."

"I could say the same about you, you're the only one who hasn't ran away crying because of my cynicism."

"I'm so honoured."

"You should be."

"Well, I should get going, my mom's probably waiting for me." He waves. "See you next week."

Before he can take another step forward, I slap the back of his jeans, "nice ass."

"Glad you like it, hopefully you'll be seeing much more of it in the near future," he winks.

And with that, Kyle leaves me standing alone in the empty parking lot.

 

_ _ _

 

"So, how'd it go today, sweetie?" My mom asks.

"Fine... I met this guy..." I trail off, wondering if it's a good idea to tell her about Kyle.

"Oh really?" She raises an eyebrow. "What's he like?"

"I don't know how to describe him," I frown. "He threw his shoe at my face, and then I'm pretty sure he prompted me to fuck him in the ass-"

"Stanley!"

"What?" I ask, barely holding suppressing a laugh. "I slapped his ass and then he said that hopefully I'd be seeing more of it in the near future."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, "oh my god."

"If you haven't noticed yet, I'm a horny eighteen-year-old boy, and sometimes I have the urge to-"

"Ok, forget that I asked anything," she groans, stomping out of the room.

"You better not pound that kid's ass when I'm around, turd!" My sister, Shelly shouts from upstairs.

Before I can make a snarky retort, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out and stare at the message on the screen.

How did your faggy little meeting go?

I don't have the energy to text back, so I call instead.

"It was alright," I say as soon as Cartman answers the phone.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I even got myself a girlfriend."

"SERIOUSLY?!"

"Yep."

I hang up the phone, deciding to let that sit with him for a while.

He calls back eight more times, but I don't pick up.

 

_ _ _

 

I sit down in the circle, awaiting Kyle's arrival.

He's late.

The meeting has already started, and yet there's no signs of the only person that can make this support group somewhat tolerable.

I sit waiting for a while, probably about ten minutes, until I'm hit in the back of the head with a shoe.

"Fuck!" I shout, turning several heads towards me.

"Sorry I'm late~"

That little shit.

"What was that for, assbag?" I mutter as he takes a seat beside me.

He presses a single finger to his chin as if he's deep in thought, "I felt like it?"

"Boys, please calm down," some guy says.

"Sorry, sir, my friend here is kind of a masochist and got a little excited for a second there," Kyle says.

"What?!"

He smiles at me innocently, "that kind of behaviour isn't tolerated here, Stanley, this is a support group, not a whore house."

The scraggly blond haired guy from last week snorts, tugging on the strings of his parka.

As soon as the group refocuses on the current speaker, I turn back to Kyle, who is obviously not paying attention. Time for my revenge.

I lean over and bite down on his earlobe, causing him to release I quiet squeak.

"How disrespectful," I whisper. "You shouldn't be making any noise while someone else is talking."

"I could say the same to you," he retorts through gritted teeth.

"Aw, is someone angry that I beat them at their own game?"

He crosses his arms over his chest as I finally release his ear from my lips.

I take a quick glance at the group once again. Everyone else is still completely focused on some random dude's problems.

I can practically feel his rage growing beside me, which just makes my grin widen.

"I win," I whisper.

His eye twitches, and I can tell that he's about to make his next move. I really hope it doesn't involve physical pain, or shoes.

Before I even know what's happening, his hand shoots up in the air and he announces to the group that he needs to go to the washroom. He grabs my wrist and drags me out the door, and through the narrow hallways of the community centre.

"Where are we going?" I grunt, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

"The bathroom," he replies simply, kicking a door open seconds after.

He drags me past the urinals, and throws me into the nearest stall.

He shoves me down on the toilet seat and climbs onto my lap.

"So, what's up?" I ask casually, as if this is a totally normal situation.

"Your dick, apparently," he snickers, staring down at the front of my jeans.

Before I can reply, he grabs my face and presses his lips against mine.

After a good solid five minutes of making out, our mouths separate.

"Shit, dude, what are we doing?" I pant. "We barely even know each other."

"That's the point," he grins. "This is how we get to know each other better. Because of what just happened, I now know that you're a really good kisser, get a boner really easily, and that you seem to have an obsession with my ass."

I didn't realize that I even had my hands on his butt until now. I reluctantly remove them, grab his face, and pull him into another kiss.

After that day, we didn't go to a single actual meeting, just spent once every week making out and fucking in the bathroom stalls, and strangely enough, that turned out to be all the support we needed.


End file.
